


Domo Arigato

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV Peter Hale, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7704376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you’re telling me, the new bad guys are robots who have run amuck?” Sheriff Stilinski sighed and rubbed his face.  </p>
<p>Peter totally sympathized with the man.  This was like a bad sci-fi picture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domo Arigato

**Author's Note:**

> Here is another entry for my Round 7 of Hurt/Comfort Bingo, this one an admittedly crack-y offering that was super fun to write. I consider it canon compliant through season 5 but since this is set in the future it all depends on what they do with Peter, and everyone else, in the last season.

Domo Arigato

 

“So you’re telling me, the new bad guys are robots who have run amuck?” Sheriff Stilinski sighed and rubbed his face. 

Peter totally sympathized with the man. This was like a bad sci-fi picture.

Standing in the back of the McCall living room, Peter couldn’t help but wisecrack, “Yeah, maybe Dennis DeYoung was on to something.”

Malia, his biological child who couldn’t stand him, stared daggers at him. “Who?”

Peter let out a long-suffering sigh. “Dennis DeYoung from the band Styx? He penned the song _Mr. Roboto_? This ringing any bells?” He received nothing but blank looks from the so-called pack although Melissa McCall was openly laughing. “Uneducated children,” he huffed quietly.

Stiles and Lydia were huddled together looking at a cell phone. The beginning synthesized notes of _Mr. Roboto_ blared from the device.

Stiles looked up, caught his father’s eye, and grinned. “I know this one. Very catchy…for 1983.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes good-naturedly and then cleared his throat. “So Scott, what’s the plan?”

Scott crossed his arms, flexing supernaturally enhanced biceps, and nodded at Stiles and Lydia. “Guys? Why don’t you bring everyone up to speed?”

“I thought we were going to have access to a smart board so my presentation is going to lack visuals. We’ll make do though,” Lydia said as she stood up and joined Scott at the front of the room, smoothing down her extremely short skirt. It was classic Black Watch tartan and paired with a white button-down shirt; very schoolgirl chic except Lydia’s new hairstyle—shoulder length hair and bangs—was very sophisticated.

Peter waxed nostalgic about the strawberry-blonde’s changing sense of style over the years. It was hard to believe these kids were no longer teenyboppers but had made it to the ripe old age of twenty-something.

Glancing around the room, Peter realized plaid seemed to be a theme with Malia wearing a Stewart Royal red plaid top tied beneath her bosom. It wasn’t just Peter’s paternal feelings that frowned upon the ensemble which also consisted of too short-shorts and thigh high boots; his sense of style cringed as well.

Stiles had graduated from flannel shirts that a lumberjack might wear to a fitted Bonnie Violet tartan Oxford shirt from The Gap. The purple really brought out his pretty brown eyes. Small progress, yet progress nonetheless.

Peter switched gears from his inner Tim Gunn and listened to the lovely Lydia extolling the non-virtues of robots bearing a not-so-dissimilar appearance to the already commented upon Mr. Roboto.

“They move in sync,” Lydia was apparently wrapping up her spiel, “so—”

“Think a hive mentality,” Stiles interrupted Lydia, with that deep mellow voice that seemed a revelation when paired with his lanky physique.

Lydia frowned at the intrusion but everyone else was nodding sagely, as though Stiles’s insight made perfect sense. Peter supposed in a way it did; anyone familiar with The Borg from Star Trek would now have a sense of what the robots were capable of doing.

Clearing her throat haughtily, Lydia continued, “As I was saying, so if the supernatural among us with enhanced strength could please dig the afore-mentioned trench in the preserve, we’ll be ready to lure the robots into it thus ensuring their demise.”

Mason, Liam’s spunky friend, raised his hand. “Could we call them something other than robots? That seems so…”

“Pedestrian?” Peter interjected. “I quite agree.”

Melissa joined the conversation. “Well I suppose we could go with Mr. Roboto.”

Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa and Argent seemed content with that idea but the young upstarts—particularly Liam and his girlfriend who both crinkled their noses in adorable fashion and Mason’s chimera boyfriend who kept phasing in and out—panned the idea loudly.

Scott bowed to the adult faction. “Mr. Roboto it is then. Since they keep showing up at dawn, let’s meet in the appointed place at 5:00 a.m. sharp.” The ‘kids’ in the pack whined their dissatisfaction with the plan but everyone 20-years-of-age and older just shrugged. “Liam, Hayden, Malia, and Brett, you’re with me.”

As the pack began to disperse, Peter realized he hadn’t been tagged to assist with the trench digging even though he had supernatural strength. Shrugging his shoulders, he joined those filing out of the McCall house; he couldn’t say he was particularly broken up about it.

Peter passed Sheriff Stilinski, Lydia and Stiles who seemed to be in a heated discussion; they unfortunately clammed up as Peter approached. 

He wasn’t necessarily considered a part of the inner pack, not yet, but Peter was still pleased he was allowed to join in their supernatural shenanigans. Life would be very dull, indeed, if he was left to his own devices.

-0-

Peter showed up at the appointed hour and place, sipping his Starbucks Caramel Macchiato, Venti, Skim, Extra Shot, Extra-Hot, Extra-Whip, Sugar-Free. He loved the way the barista pursed his or her lips when he requested the most obnoxious drink possible. He liked to do the same thing at restaurants with his orders. Speaking of restaurants, he was thinking waffles for breakfast once this problem was sorted out.

Lydia was inspecting the trench, wearing a trench coat _naturalmente._ She was pointing to areas that she wanted modified and Scott was doing her bidding.

The children—Liam, Hayden, Mason, Corey and Brett—were standing around yawning, sipping from bottles of Mt. Dew.

Malia was the only twenty-something within view and she was wrinkling her nose but still sipping from some frothy concoction, holding Lydia’s drink in her other hand.

Stiles was off in the distance, kneeling down, fussing with something. Peter strained his eyes to see what the young man was doing when someone sidled up to him.

Chris Argent.

“Are you ready for this? It seems like the kids came up with a sound plan this time.” The other man rumbled his question, voice showing signs of disuse at this hour.

Peter looked around to make sure Chris wasn’t speaking to someone else. It wasn’t unheard of for the hunter to include him, however, this was the first overture that seemed to be unrelated to plotting and planning.

“I’m not sure why we’re under attack from an army of robots, pardon me, Mr. Roboto, but I do like our odds,” Peter retorted.

Nodding, Chris ambled off toward the trench, fondling his crossbow.

A clicking noise was heard in the distance. Peter imagined the robots goose-stepping along toward them and a kick of adrenaline surged through his body. It had been a while since he had an opportunity to showcase his fighting skills.

Melissa was shading her eyes against the rising sun with one hand while she leaned her weight on a baseball bat, using it like a cane, with the other. “How are we going to make sure they step where we want them to step?”

Sheriff Stilinski spoke up, “Stiles rigged up a sound system to lure them to the right place. We only need to get the lead robot to fall into the trench and the rest will follow like lemmings.” His hand dropped to his leg holster, making sure his off-duty gun was at the ready.

Shiny metal could be seen cresting the rise. Scott, already in partial shift form, growled out, “Hit it, Stiles.”

Synthesizers filled the air and Lydia groaned. “I thought we were going with _Flight of the Valkyries_?” 

“That’s so _Apocalypse Now_ ,” Stiles grinned back. “Besides, Peter wanted Styx.”

Peter answered Stiles’s grin with his own. This was his music and he was going to show these upstarts how it was done.

As the lyrics kicked in, Peter found himself marching forward toward the trench to greet the invading robots. 

_Domo arigato misuta Robotto_  
_Mata au hi made_  
_Domo arigato misuta Robotto_  
_Himitsu wo shiritai_

The lead robot—Mr. Roboto—raised its fist shoulder height, facing forward; it was the classic hand signal for ‘freeze’ utilized in close range engagement.

The whole platoon froze. Red eyes pulsed, an eerie laser show.

They needed something more to get Mr. Roboto moving forward.

Peter screamed, “I’m Kilroy!” while jumping forward at the same time someone gave a shriek. 

Someone wielding a sword. 

Kira, the Kitsune. Last Peter had heard, Kira had been in Japan on sabbatical.

Kira, who despite her flashy swordplay, managed to knock into Peter’s back sending him tumbling into the trench. Apparently the dear girl was still a klutz.

Before Peter could find his footing and leap from the ditch, a barrage of heavy metal soldiers collapsed on top of him.

_So much for breakfast_ Peter thought as someone turned the lights out.

-0-

Lightning jolted through Peter’s chest. His body seized, bending backward, before relaxing.

Somehow he was still alive.

“Good job, Kira. Now let’s give him some air,” Scott ordered.

It took a moment or two before Peter could blink his eyes open and keep them that way. 

Scott, Lydia, Malia, Melissa and Stiles all peered down at him.

All of the people Peter had wronged.

Peter had wronged many more people than that, but these were the ones that haunted him the most.

He’d bitten Scott to make a pack so he could become a strong alpha.

He’d used Lydia to bring himself back from the dead.

Then there was Malia…the memory of his child had been cruelly stolen from him but once he’d been aware of the connection, he hadn’t tried to form a relationship.

Melissa he had used to get close to Scott. His attempt had failed but still, the damage was done.

Peter should have turned Stiles who would’ve made a magnificent wolf; instead he’d bullied him into revealing Scott’s whereabouts all those years ago and had forever lost the boy’s, now man’s, trust.

So much history, none of it good.

Melissa held a hand over her heart. “Thank goodness. We weren’t sure you were going to make it back,” she exclaimed.

“I made it? I’m not dead?” Peter queried. Upon seeing those gathered around him, he’d worried he was in Hell.

Stiles reached down and squeezed his shoulder, which hurt. Significantly.

Scott reached down and grabbed Peter’s hand, pulling pain.

Malia actually smiled at him.

Lydia patted his ankle. “Corey was able to phase out and push the lead robot, excuse me, Mr. Roboto, into the trench. Unfortunately you had already fallen into it when the others followed.” She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything more about how he came to be in that predicament in the first place.

Melissa stood up, clapping her hands together. “Anyone interested in breakfast, meet up back at Casa McCall.”

Scott and Stiles pulled Peter to his feet. 

The earth spun a bit but Peter wasn’t so sure it was from his injuries.

The pack was including him.

The pack cared if he lived or died.

If Peter had never turned Scott, he’d never be where he was today.

He wasn’t foolish enough to voice that opinion though.

Allowing himself to be tugged along, he listened as the other supernatural beings threw the dirt back into the trench, burying the robot army.

Breakfast, and inclusion in the coveted pack, awaited him.

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my super-beta, feather_touch; she always has the best suggestions to make my efforts shine.
> 
> If you've been following along with my Hurt/Comfort Bingo efforts, thank you for your support. This fills the prompt robots/androids which thanks to Peter's snarky sense of humor, was a pleasure to do.


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